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COPYRIGHT DEPOSnv 



OUR SOUTHERN QUINTETTE 
AND OTHER POEMS 



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'To my father and mother, 
whose lives, now in the 
even-tide, illustrate the 
poetry of life. 



Our Southern Quintette 

and Other Poems 

By 
JOHN LEONIDAS ROSSER 




New York and Washington 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1908 



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Copyright, 1908, by 
JOHN LEONIDAS ROSSER 






Foreword 

One bright day, while in college, the author of 
this volume read Tennyson's Enoch Arden. It un- 
sealed a fountain. Fascinated by its beauty, and 
touched by its pathos, he has ever since loved the 
beautiful in literature, both in thought and form. 
During the nearly five years since leaving school, 
though his life has been devoted to other things, in 
leisure moments he has always delighted to wander 
into that field where the sentiments of great hearts 
come to ultimate bloom and the thoughts of great 
minds take on final fire. He has loved poetry, which 
is the "music of thought conveyed to us in the music 
of language," and "the morning dream of great 
minds." 

But he rarely has attempted to scale even the foot- 
hills of Parnassus. With few exceptions, the verses 
contained under these covers have been written within 
the last fifteen months; and their publication is an 
afterthought. A few of them, however, have been 



published in papers or periodicals. While he already 
has his reward in the writing of them, he cherishes 
the hope that the work of publication may be worth 
the doing. 

Rustburg, Virginia. J. L. R. 



Contents 

Miscellaneous Lyrics 

Proem 15 

Our Southern Quintette . . . . . l6 

Memorial Day 20 

The Vision-Hour 22 

That Wondrous Dream of Mine .... 23 

Commencement Day 24 

The Poor Poet .25 

Memories 26 

The Future's Call 28 

Virginia Is the Place 29 

The Old ViUage Mill . . . . . . 31 

The Blight on the Bloom 34 

or Marster's Way S6 

When Christmas Comes . . . . . 37 

Lyrics of Love 

When the Daisies Come Again .... 41 



Contents — Continued 

A Recollection 42 

Good-By 43 

Only a Mocking Dream 4g 

The Eagle Flying to Its Nest .... 48 

Over the Twilight Sea 50 

Christmas Night 51 

Dreams of Adaline 53 

The Old and the New 54 



Lyrics of Nature 

The Call of the Wild . 

Spring's Avant-Couriers 

The Day at Indian Springs 

The Moon and the Lake 

Tragedy 

An Evening Sermon from Nature 

Palms and Willows 

The Law Divine . 

I Now Understand 

A New Year's Wish 

Bon Voyage . 



57 
59 
61 
64 

67 
69 

70 
71 

72 
72 



MISCELLANEOUS LYRICS 



Proem 



Take wing, my little song, 
Tho thy flight be not long. 

Thy wings release; 
Thy lowly strains may be 
To brother souls from me 

A dove of peace. 

I cast thee on the tide. 
My little wreath. Abide 

Thy destined day: 
Float humbly 'mid the strife, 
Breathe out thy little life. 

And pass away. 



Like melody forgot, 

Or dream remembered not. 

Thou shalt depart; 
Yet while thy day shall last. 
Some light thy life may cast 

On some lone heart. 
15 



Our Southern Quintette 

EDGAR ALLAN POE 

In paths iintrod for love or pelf 

Before, strange star of weirdest glow, 
We own thy wondrous power, Poe, 

Master of art, but not of self. 

O'er thee thy natal star burned fair. 
And filled thy soul with visions bright; 
But Folly hid too oft the light 

That Nature set a-flaming there. 

Misfortune's blight, beyond control. 
On other sons of genius fell; 
But inner passion was the hell 

That burned the beauty of thy soul. 



SIDNEY LANIER 

Lanier, fair son of Southern song. 

Well of the Miises loved and known. 
Thy soul was art and beauty's own. 

Thy voice was clear and richly strong. 
16 



Lofty of reach and sweet of sound, 

Far on thy soul's great deep, song's tide 
In sun-bright billows flowed, but died 

Ere it the shores had fully found. 



For tragic fate great hopes belied; 
And that reward of high degree 
Thy matchless gifts had won for thee 

Disease and poverty denied. 



PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 

Minstrel of Nature's forms and sounds, 
Lover of streams and hills and pines, 
Art, truth, and beauty in thy lines 

To "Fame's eternal camping-ground" 



Entitle thee, sweet singer, Hayne. 
But ah! misfortune's baneful blight 
On thy fair bloom too soon did light; 

Full flower thy soul did not attain. 

17 



Yet when to light, by slow degree, 

The truth hath grown, and Time thy name 
Shall justly view, with fairer fame 

The long result shall laurel thee. 



HENRY TIMROD 



While Poesy's spirit inly burned 
And Poesy's light around thee shone, 
Timrod, ill health marked thee her own, 

And day to dark was quickly turned. 



O'er thy life's peaceful-promising sea. 
Winds, wild and sudden, sweeping bore 
To Disappointment's rugged shore 

Thy dreams and hopes continually. 



Hushed was thy harp of golden strings. 

Its melodies still half untold; 

Wliile yet thy song in beauty rolled. 
In morn's mid-flight were furled thy wings. 
18 



ABRAM J. RYAN 

Ryan, soul-sad by grieving made, 
Pathetic notes vein all thy song. 
Martyr to love's young dream, too long 

Thy feet in sorrow's valley strayed. 

Art was from thee a thing apart. 

For souls were more than songs to thee, 
Faith, hope, and love than minstrelsy. 

Yet thy lays shall not soon depart; 

For when in the "Valley," void of peace. 

We tell our rosary of tears. 

And thorns seem crowning all our years, 
Thy songs are wings for pain's release. 



19 



Memorial Day 

Return, O spirit of the past, 

Revive our lax and languid lyres. 

Reanimate forgetful hearts, 
Relight the olden altar fires. 

Ye Southern sons and Southern sires. 

Forget, on this memorial day. 
Your marts of trade, your dreams of gold. 

And serve your land a nobler way. 

Go, join the patriotic throng 

That moves to yonder sacred place. 

Beneath whose sod and dew and rain 
There sleep the noblest of our race. 

We love our land; its sunny skies, 
Its bonny bloom, rose-misted dawns. 

Its rising cities and its plains. 
And hail its fairer future morns. 

But shame ! if we to-day forget, 
Amid our dreams of gold and gain. 

That valor-consecrated spot 

Where rest the ashes of our slain. 

20 



Go, glean from garden and from vale, 

And weave the wreathes of richest bloom; 

And, while the streams of song arise. 
Garnish some fallen hero's tomb. 



And let each Spartan's resting-place 
With beauty bloom for one short hour; 

For here hath Fame her noblest trust, 
And Chivalry her fairest flower. 

On yonder votive granite shaft 

Ten thousand marbling moons may dream; 
And o'er its base and side and crown 

The sun for dateless days may stream. 

But tenderer than dreaming moon, 
And fairer even than streaming sun. 

Our heroes' matchless deeds shall shine, 
Till life shall cease and time is done. 



21 



The Vision-Hour 



Low-hung above the western hills. 
Angels have lit the evening star; 
With rhythmic rollings on the bar 

The tide the peaceful harbor fills. 



Repenting ocean wrecks and roars. 

The great far-wandering sea-winds sigh; 
And, faintly drifting, seem to die 

Along yon evening-christened shores. 



From pressing weight of present things 
The hour invites the soul apart. 
Unveils the visions of the heart, 

Unfurls the spirit's close-shut wings. 



Its chrism unseals the inner eyes; 
And memory-painted pictures glow 
In the dream-light of long ago; 

And hope's endearing visions rise. 

22 



That Wondrous Dream of Mine 

When rosily departs the wandering light, 
And twilight sombers into evening's gloom, 
The winds of night to the tree-tops return; 
And o'er the peaceful passive-lying lawn 
The shadows and the broken moonbeams fall; 
The moon-drawn tides return to bless the bay; 
But comes no more that wondrous dream of mine. 

Whence hath it flown, or whence its splendor gone? 

\A'hat Witch of Endor may I seek to call 

Me up the past? Or what will roll away 

The stone from dark oblivion's grave and bid 

Come forth again that wondrous dream of mine? 

Still as the stars above that realm unknown 

Whose portals vast have claimed that dream of mine. 



23 



Commencement Day 

Great day of days in the long year of life, 

O'er thee fall the twin lights of eve and morn — 
The sunset haze, the stainless red of dawn — 

The death of dream, the birth of battle strife. 

But what though memory's evening field be rife 
With pleasure's pinks and roses, shall we fawn 
Before its gates of gold, while prospect's lawn 

Reaches the ribboned sunset? No, our fife 

We'll tune to nobler key. No elegy's strain 

Shall mar the clear high song our hope inspires; 

No dreamer's maudlin sigh shall speak of pain; 
We will not weakly weep o'er hearths whose fires 

Are dead. Fade and forsake, sweet light of yore; 
Abide, strong star, that looks to the western shore. 



24 



The Poor Poet 

The publisher's rich door 

Is closed against his lore; 

For lacketh he 

The golden key. 

So joys of fame, abloom 

In hope's bright-beaming sky. 
Like frighted shadows fly 
To disappointment's gloom. 

He seeks a lesser place, 
And prays the printer's grace. 
Thus oftentimes 
His golden rhymes 
Are set in desert land; 
His rosy-ripened fruit. 
From poesy's vital root. 
Dries, falling in the sand. . 



25 



Memories 

Back to the scenes of youth's bright day 

I've wandered once again; 
And on my heart the memory lies 
Like dewdrops on the rose of May, 

Or like the low refrain 
Of some sweet strain from Paradise. 

As ships that leave the native shore 

Unfelt their leagues prolong, 
So boyhood's golden days have flown. 
Answer our eager calls no more; 

And calm thought marks how long 
The chain of flying years has grown. 

Though vanished far, those heart-rich hours 

Still yield a tender grace. 
The strains from memory's harp of gold. 
Like sweets from traversed fields of flowers, 

Our eager ears embrace, 
As fast the onward years unfold. 

So now when duty's crowding cares 
Awhile our lives release, 

26 



Sure as the bird of eastern skies. 
Uncaged, to his far home repairs, 

Back, winged by dreams of peace. 
The true heart fondh'^, swiftly flies. 

Still sweet the rest at fervid noon 
Beneath the ancient shades; 

And o'er the quiet, dreaming hills 

Fair falls the magic of the moon; 
And in the silent glades 

Tinkles the music of the rills. 

But some for whom this fair demesne 
Its grateful charms outspread 

Now 'neath the mossy headstones rest; 

And some who loved the rural scene. 
By rising visions led. 

Have gone in fortune's shining quest. 

But on that far horizon's rim 

Still flash auroral gleams 
Of suns that were not born to set. 
Of lights that, falling far, yet brim 

Our hearts with morning dreams 
Whose freshness with us lingers yet. 

27 



The Future's Call 

What though depart the roseate years 

On time's unresting wing? 
Who 'round their gilded graves would weep? 
Life is for work and not for tears. 

Let us then live and sing 
While man's achieving course we keep. 

The future blossoms fair with hope 

While duty calls us on ; 
Nor fame has lost its ancient power. 
We will not blindly backward grope 

For things forever gone; 
To-morrow yields life's fairest flower. 



28 



Virginia is the Place 

You want to see the loveliest land 
E'er trod by earthly pilgrim band? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

You want to see the pearliest shores 
That ever broke the ocean roars? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

You want to feel the balmiest breeze 
That ever whispered through the trees? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

You want to see the noblest tombs 
E'er garnished by memorial blooms? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

You know where wanderers find a home. 
And exiled fancies cease to roam? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

29 



Where honor scorns a shade to take, 
And love is love for love's own sake? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

You want to see the finest men 
That ever wielded sword or pen? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

Do you know where to find the girls 
That'll give your lieart a thousand whirls? 

Virginia is the place, 

Virginia is the place. 

Should ever Truth a Hagar be. 
And need a welcome home and free, 

Virginia, be the place, 

Virginia, be the place. 



30 



The Old Village Mill 

Below the mountain's privacy 
Is the river's silver chain, 

One tall o'ershading willow tree, 
A rural roadway's lane, 

And close beside the stream and hill 
That olden village mill. 



The good old miller, on whose head 
Had bloomed the almond tree, 

But in whose heart were never dead 
The flowers of pleasantry. 

Bore rule with long-accustomed grace, 
The genius of the place. 



The farmers came for miles around, 
And brought the golden grain; 

And, while the mighty millstones ground, 
Discoursed of crops and rain, 

Of church or state in homely way. 
And whiled the hours of day. 

31 



In rushing, foaming flood the run 
Poured o'er the wooden wheel; 

Like diamonds shattered in the sun 
The drops and rivulets fell; 

Like necklaces of pearly glow, 
Glancing they fell below. 

Ofttimes, far in the lonely night. 
When the world's pulse was low, 

When tender stars were shining bright, 
And winds forgot to blow, 

I heard, in weird and mystic tones, 
The rumble of those stones. 

Still by the stream the willow weeps ; 

But gone is the olden din. 
For on the slope the miller sleeps 

And silence reigns within; 
But memory hears the music still 

Of that old village mill. 

Since that day splendor's banquet boards 
Have often been my lot, 

32 



With viands that only wealth affords; 

But ne'er have I forgot 
The nutty white of that old mill 

That reigned beside the hill. 



33 



The Blight on the Bloom 



Engirt by fields of wealth untold 
That wear their snowy crown, 

Washed by her river's rhythmic roll. 
Fair lies our Central Town. 



For here hath mother Nature poured 
Both wealth and charm like rain; 

And fair Art hath its luster lent 
Our Auburn on the plain. 



But there is canker on her crown, 
And mildew on her bloom, 

A fiery serpent in her bowers. 
And on her brightness gloom. 



A traffic stains our city's shield 
And makes our manhood's woe. 

And causes down pure woman's cheek 
The helpless tears to flow. 

34 



It brings the wolf to childhood's door. 
To youth the tempter's snare. 

The covered pit, the poisoned dart 
To mankind everywhere. 

Selma, wear not this cankered crown. 

Nourish no tainted bloom, 
Allow no serpent in your bowers, 

Nor on your brightness gloom. 

Ye men, in God's own image made. 
Rise, like a bulwark stand. 

To your high birthright proving true. 
For home and native land. 



35 



or Marster's Way 

Go 'long erway, you sassy chil', 

Er-tawking dat er-way ter me; 
You niggers all is gone plum* wil', 

Jes' 'cause de Yankees set you free. 

You don' know wliut you'se 'bout — 'tain' right, 

Er-settin' in de sun all day. 
An' holdin' meetin's in de night; 

You wuz not made ter ack dat way. 

Wal, go 'long, den, an' have yo' time; 

But sho' you'd better keep yo' place, 
An' wuck befo' you 'spects er dime. 

An' show de worl' er hones' face. 

I'se nigh ter mer sun-settin' day, 

An' ol'-time things don' love ter change; 
An' fum his kin' ol' Marster's way 

Dis darkey never 'spects ter range. 

Down on de big plantation place 

I heerd his voice er-callin' den; 
An' when I'se dun dis weary race 

I 'spects ter hear him call ergin. 
36 



When Christmas Comes 

Yes, fellows, it is well enough 

About the world to roam; 
But ah, when Christmas rolls around, 

/ want to be at home. 

Not few the other scenes I love, 

For well their worth I see; 
But when in beauty Yule-tide dawns 

They lose their charm for me. 

Noble it is to garner gain 

O'er land or isle or sea; 
But when the "Santa" season comes 

Home is the place for me. 

The cheerful fire therein to-night 

Lights all the room to bloom; 
And the tall trees about the door 

Stand whispering in the gloom. 

Around the brightly beaming hearth 

Gather the young and old; 
And household pleasure reigns and rules 

O'er all that's done and told. 
37 



Right well I wish I could be there, 

To mingle in the cheer; 
And live again in word and dream 

Tlie things forever dear. 



S8 



LYRICS OF LOVE 



When the Daisies Come Again 

When warmly, softly falls the rain 

Over the hills of May, 
And, dear, the daisies come again. 

To thee I'll haste away. 



Like carrier-birds far out at sea, 
Longing for native shore. 

My heart can but a pilgrim be. 
And its hard fate deplore; 



For heavy hangs the joyless time, 
Life plays its minor strain. 

Till, in their dappled May-day prime, 
The daisies come again. 



Then, like the caged bird unbound 

Into its native air, 
I'll fly to love's enchanted ground, 

And find a heaven there. 

41 



A Recollection 



Wlien first I saw your girlish face 

Earth's leaf and bloom were in their prime; 
June flushed the world with summer's grace 

And golden ran the sands of Time. 



When last I saw your face, my dear, 
November was the dreary time; 

The leaf and bloom were faded and sere 
And Life had lost its rh\i:hm and rhyme. 



Dear heart, how long the distance seems 
Between that vision first and last; 

What joys and hopes liave come, what dreams 
Have flown like leaves in winter's blast. 



Rare, rosy, radiant day in June, 
When memory's cup is flowing full. 

Both mind and heart with thee commune, 
And heart's-ease from your gardens cull. 

42 



Good-by 



The shadows veil the sea; 
Come, stroll again with me 

Yon wave-enamored strand; 

Then, laying your rosy hand 
A moment here in mine. 
We'll talk of auld long syne. 



You call to mind the hour: 
The dewdrops filled each flower. 
The breeze came o'er the lea. 
The moon-gold charmed the sea. 
In pearly moonlit flow 
The waves were lapping low. 



Their lips of love and song 
The shining shores along. 

Calm was the world apart. 
But wild within my heart; 
Like Galilee of old. 
Love's passion inly rolled. 

43 



The breezes hushed to hear 
Love's accents low and clear, 

Rose-odors on the air 

Fresh sweetness gathered there. 
With answering love a-thrill, 
You spoke a "Peace, be still." 



Like birds, with folded wing, 
That by the fountains sing, 
Like bees tliat murmur long 
In flower-bells their song, 
I fain and lingered there 
In that love-christened air. 



But broken is the glass, 
Wasted the wine; you place 
To my fond lips the lees. 

• • • • « 

Farewell, ye happy seas. 
Your music and your roar. 
Your memory-haunted shore. 

44 



To-morrow, love, I go: 

Here in the after-glow. 

Clothed in that soft grey dress, 
Give me one more caress. 

And let me feel the bliss. 

Of just one more fond kiss. 



45 



Only a Mocking Dream 

The night is falling fast 

Over the winter sea; 
And loud, like anger's blast. 

The wind goes o'er the lea. 

Out in the gathering gloom 
The tree-tops sway in pain; 

While, here in the firelight room, 
I hark the wind and the rain. 

On this sweet morn in May, 
As we in the daisies stand, 

I mark how fair is the day. 
How broad the meadow-land. 

The world holds not a pang; 

For fairer seemeth she 
Than ever one that sprang 

From fabled land or sea. 

And while the dainty dew 
Jewels the morning rose, 

46 



I breathe my story true — 
Life's secret shrine unclose. 

She pulls a rosy leaf 

Rippled with many a vein, 
While words, as firm as brief, 

Come back in deep disdain. 

'Tis but a dreary dream; 

For here you are alone 
In the fading firelight's gleam. 

With scarce a ringlet gone. 

Of girlhood's crown of curls, 
Heart of my heart and life, 

O paragon of girls. 

My dearest darling wife. 



47 



The Eagle Flying to Its Nest 



The day has stormed itself to rest, 

And lies exhausted on the west; 

The winds have died on far-off shores, 
Where loud the wild- willed breaker roars; 

And over the waters, hushed in sleep, 

The gloaming's shadows swiftly creep. 



While peace o'er all its charm distils. 
Gray pilgrim of the desert hills. 
From cloud-folds flying far astray, 
And faintly touched with dying day, 
A mist, by vagrant currents blown. 
Wanders from peak to peak, alone. 



Through the un-shored upper air, 
From sunset's palette painted fair. 
Forgot far flight and eager quest. 
Among the crags, back to its nest. 
In the fast-falling, fading light, 
The eagle wings its homeward flight. 
48 



When daylight like a dolphin dies. 
Harsh sounds to music symphonize. 

And pensive, homeward I repair. 

O pilgrim of the pathless air. 
Had I thy wings, I too would fly 
To heart's own rest 'neath love's own sky. 



49 



Over the Twilight Sea 



Along the sea-beat strand I strolled, 
Sweet Annabel, with you; 

And while the waves in beauty rolled 
And sea-birds homeward flew. 

We wf.tched the deepening shadows fall 
Over the twiliffht sea. 



'Twas in the sweet long, long ago. 

That tender even-tide. 
When, mingling with the waters' flow. 

Our song rose far and wide; 
And dark we saw the shadows fall 

Over the twilight sea. 



Unchanged, fair lies this sea and land, 
O'erlooked by star and sky; 

Still beats the sea along the strand. 
And sea-birds homeward fly — 

But only one sees shadows fall 
Over the twilight sea. 
50 



Christinas Night 

December's flakes so white 
Are falling far and fast; 

And through the shivering night 
Sweeps wild the wintry blast. 

Here, in my cozy room, 

The Christmas firelight gleams; 
And 'gainst the outer gloom 

Its inner radiance streams. 

Over my dreaming steals 
A dream of you, my dear; 

And my heart lighter feels 

As Memory brings you near. 

Dear heart so warm and true. 

With Christmas beamings bright, 

The love that once you knew, 
Oh, is it there to-night.'' 

Does distance steal the charm 
That once you found in me? 

Can absence work a harm 
To the love we gave so free? 
61 



Mine hath but fonder grown, 
Though absent long I've been; 

Noi hath one beauty flown 

From what I thought you then. 



52 



Dreams of Adaline 



By this long shore and tranquil sea. 

Deep, dim and desolate sea, 
Fly, Adaline, my thoughts to thee. 

While fancies fair 

And dreams as rare 
Come o'er the misty and musical sea. 



The moon-gold's magic's on the sea, 

The darkly-wandering sea. 
And dreams, dear one, my heart of thee. 

While memory's grace 

Unveils thy face 
Far o'er the misty and musical sea. 



Seeing the moonlit, dew-dipped lea. 

The dark and desolate sea. 
Brings back fond memories of thee; 
For joy was spent 
When thy beauty went 
Over the misty and musical sea. 
63 



The Old and the New 



The weeping waves are beating still 
Around an old familiar shore; 

The lifted sails embrace the breeze 
As in the happier days of yore. 

Swift changes come, as changes must. 
For change is life's unchanging way: 

The sun, the shade; the dawn, the dusk; 
The light, the night; the dark, the day. 

The stranger's blandest love and praise. 
Which mortal minds so largely prize. 

Old friendship's place can never fill. 
Till hope decays and true love dies. 



64 



LYRICS OF NATURE 



The Call of the Wild 

I am sick of the din and the dust, 

Of the wild and unresting lust 
For power and for place, for gold and for gain. 

I am fain 
Of the fellowship of diviner things. 
Of the rapture and rhythm their presence brings. 

I am sick of the dust and the din 

Of the haunts and the voices of men. 
In the ample unhindered spaces of the world. 

The soul, its closely-folded wings 
By the grace surrounding softly and swiftly 
unfurled 

Can feel the lilting life of things. 

The very thought of the rills. 
Slipping silvery from the hills, 
And the dreaming-places of the fields. 

Where the showers 
Are inwove with the breath of the unfolding flowers, 
A consecrating pleasure and purity yields. 
67 



1 am out and away to the woods and the streams, 
And the dreams 
That in Nature's sanctuaries of silence and peace 

Are waiting the touch of a lover's release. 
Elixirs of health are borne on the wings of the wind, 
Anodyne to despair and the melancholy mind. 

There Nature the roseate robes of the morning wears, 
And the lingering evening's tender entrancement 

bears. 
The leaves lisp their manifold immemorial song. 
The dew's duplicate diamonds live the whole day long, 
And fragrantly-freighted are the leisurely airs. 

I am sick of the dust and the din 
Of the Babel-confusions of men. 
I have heard the call of the wild, 
And my soul of the charm is beguiled. 
I am out for the balmy untrodden hills. 
Where the ancient unsullied silence distils 
The intangible magic that perfectly heals 
That ennui the overborne spirit feels. 



68 



Spring's Avant-Couriers 



Though still the boughs are partly bare. 
There's something tender in the air 

We have not felt before — 

A sense of things in store; 
And soon shall burst to beauteous birth 
The leaf-and-bloom-appareled earth. 



A grassy greening in the vales, 
A leafy lisping in the dales, 
A rippling in the rains, 
A purpling on the plains, 
Say, Springtime's witchery is near. 
To Love and Poesy ever dear. 



Where yonder they entwine the bough, 
The vines, I ween, are dreaming now 
Of leafy draperies rare. 
Slow-swaying in the air. 
Of tender blossoms soon to be. 
And purple clusters fair to see. 
59 



Along the river's bordered bank 
Springs harbingers smell rare and rank; 

The waters clearer flow. 

In softer measures go; 
With woodbine draperies beside, 
The laurel leans above the tide. 

I'd rather feel this Springtime's spell 
Than in a royal court to dwell; 

For life is in this air. 

And promise everywhere. 
Forget your grief, dismiss your fear. 
For Springtime's cheer will soon be here. 



60 



The Day at Indian Springs 

THE MORNING 

To overpaint with sunny sheen 
The night-o'erwearied sylvan scene, 
Bride of the meadow, stream, and lawn. 
Along the hills comes down the maiden morn,- 

Descends a beauteous birth 
Over the leaf-and-bloom appareled earth. 
In a most lilting way 
The blossom-censers sway. 
And a bewitching fragrance lay 
On all the pearly-lustered day; 
The sands in marbled beauty shine; 
The streams are touched with hues divine. 

THE SPRING 

A magic to the ills 

That poor mortality knows. 
From the deep-chambered hills 
The life-rich rivulet flows. 
And I think of that ancient race 
Of savage heart and dusky face. 
Who, when the forests round them stood, 

61 



Here deeply drank and found it good. 
Children of common Fatherhood, 

Though proud of nobler breed, 

In nature's common need, 
The paleface owns the brotherhood. 

THE DAY 

Through the day long 

Peace charms the air, 
Save where the song 

Of leaf or bird is there. 

The woodland privacies I fain explore: 
Proud as the kings of ancient days, 
I walk the scented wildwood ways, 

And from Nature drink a rich and sacred lore. 

THE TWILIGHT 

In that mid-mystic hour of eve. 
When the dark and the bright inweave 
The going of the light 
With the coming of the night. 
O'er meadow, hillock, lawn, and stream, 

62 



A languor lingers like a dream 

Almost forgot 
Or melody nigh-remembered not. 
Then raptured memory backward flies, 
Or fancy roams the future's skies. 



THE NIGHT 



The shadows marshal thick, the pale lights flee, 
We own the sway of Night's all-sovereignty; 
And God's good stars o'er-sentinel the sleep 
Alike of those who smile and those who weep. 



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The Moon and the Lake 

O'er all the vision's reach supplies 
The midnight's mild enchantment lies; 
The summer-flooded hills around 
Dream, innocent of every sound; 
Clear-mirrored lies this Galilee, 
Where wilding winds are wont to be. 



Huge gem of soft unsullied light, 

The white moon crowns the zenith night; 
And, looking down with gentle grace. 
Reprints its full and perfect face 

Deep in the water's crystal heart. 

Replete in every shining part. 



What if a ripple should be made, 
Or marring mist or cloud be laid 

Across this beauteous view and sweet. 
Wherein the earth and heavens meet, , 
To break this radiant nuptial scene 
Of silvery light and watery sheen ! 
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Master, a symboling scene I see: 
The heart below should image thee; 

Far in the soul's clear deeps should shine 
That perfect, holy face of thine. 
Christ, still our souls and clarify. 
Till they repeat the Light on high. 



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Tragedy 

By loving winds caressed 
Upon its swaying spray. 

Waits here the fair-blown rose 
To be the storm-wind's prey. 

The graceful-gliding ship 
Sails o'er the peaceful sea; 

The rugged rocks await 
To wreck it cruelly. 

A fallen flake of gold. 

The sunbeam gems the lawn; 
The shades of evening fall, 

And steal this gift of dawn. 

Unwarned of autumn frost. 
The lisping summer leaf 

Tenderly sings and sighs, 

Nor dreams its life so brief. 

The heart hath promises. 
And dreams divinest things ; 

But given scorn, love retires. 
And folds its wounded wings. 

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An Evening Sermon from Nature 

As the wild bird at eve forspent 

Folds his wide-wandering wings for rest. 
The sun, forsaking sea and wold 

And hill, enfolds the peaceful west. 

The marble sands that fringe the coast 
Receive the wavelets' soft caress; 

The ocean waters, rolling far. 
Against the distant sky-line press. 

And, rising from the under-world. 

Shedding its leaves and flakes of light. 

The moon, fair empress of the sky, 
Bejewels all the orient night. 

Across the vast from west to east, 

I hear unspoken tidings roll; 
The greater with the lesser light 

Communion holds, as soul with soul. 

In nature's voiceless language calls 
To coming moon the going sun: 

"My parting message hear and heedi 
My day's appointed task is done, 
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"My banners bright must folded be; 

Let now thy lamp in beauty burn, 
Light thou the land, gild thou the sea, 

And occupy till I return." 

Ye ransomed souls, a lesson learn: 

Your ^Laster said, with heavenly ken, 

"Till I to earth return, my lights 
Ye are to all the race of men." 



tjs 



Palms and Willows 



In captive days, by distant heathen streams, 
Amid their shadowed hopes and shattered dreams. 
Their silent harps on weeping willows hung, 
Refusing Zion's songs that once they sung. 
Their homeland love in tender memory kept, 
Exiled, God's ancient people sat and wept. 



Again, in God's recorded later lore. 

We read that waving palms the people bore. 

And while the King their proud procession led. 
Along His way the branches green they spread. 
And loud hosannas cried to David's Heir, 
Who rode in true and lordly triumph there. 



Great emblem-truths these sacred stories tell; 
For joy and grief with us alternate dwell; 

From sun to shade we pass, from storm to calm. 

The drooping willow and the lordly palm 
Life's pilgrim patliway fringe, and sighs and songs 
To all shall be, while life its day prolongs. 

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The Law Divine 

In wisdom God hath traced his laws. 
And holds them fast as first he laid; 

Razes no line, and adds no clause 
To the fair whole which once he made. 

From sinful sowing here below. 
Ne'er yet a righteous reaping grew; 

In every field that mortals know 
Ripen the seed to Nature true. 



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I Now Understand 



The mists of mystery enfold 
The view before me here unrolled: 
Why life at times is shadow-land, 
Ah me, I cannot understand. 



Why pleasure's purple lights are fled, 
And desert pathways I must tread. 
Why Joy has gone to some far-land. 
Ah me, I cannot understand. 



The pain of mystery divine. 
The mystery of pain are mine; 

But a light falls from the star-land; 

God is love; now I understand. 



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A New Year Wish 



No tear 
Stain your New Year; 

No strife 
Draw near your life. 



No pain, 
No chill, no rain; 

But light 
Of love's delight. 



Good cheer 
For many a year; 

Long life 
With pleasure rife. 



Bon Voyage 



Calm be thy face, 

O surging sea; 
And fair the winds 

That breathe on thee: 



May One who walked 

On Galilee, 
Subdued the storm, 

And stilled the sea. 



And friendly may 
The billows be 

That bear my life 
And love from me. 



Of this good ship 
The Pilot be,. 

And bring my love 
Again to me. 



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JUL 6 1308 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






018 378 136 4 





